out and went into the store.

"Baskets," said Mr. Lamb. "What sort of baskets?"

"Baskets to hold strawberries--little baskets," said Daisy.

"Ah! strawberry baskets. That, ma'am, is the article."

Was it? Daisy did not think so. The storekeeper had shewed her the kind
of baskets commonly used to hold strawberries for the market; containing
about half a pint. She remarked they were not large enough.

"No, ma'am? They are the kind generally used--regular strawberry
baskets--we have sold 'em nearly all out, but we've got a few left."

"They are not large enough, nor pretty enough," repeated Daisy.

"They'll look pretty when they get the strawberries in them," said the
storekeeper with a knowing look at her. "But here's a kind, ma'am, are a
little neater--may be you would like these--What do you want, child?"

There had come into the store just after Daisy a little poor-looking
child, who had stood near, watching what was going on. Daisy turned to
look at her as Mr. Lamb's question was thrown at her over the counter,
in a tone very different from his words to herself. She saw a pale,
freckled, pensive-faced little girl, in very slim clothing, her dress
short and ragged, and feet bare. The child had been looking at her and
her baskets, but now suddenly looked away to the shopkeeper.

"Please, sir, I want--"